


indelible

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bondage, Bottom Armitage Hux, Bruises, Dominant Kylo Ren, Intercrural Sex, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Possessive Behavior, Public Humiliation, Public Use, Punishment, Scratching, Semi-Public Sex, Submissive Armitage Hux, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Top Kylo Ren, but then he has regrets, the tags bely that this ends with surprising softness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: After uncovering that General Hux has betrayed him, Kylo Ren orders him punished.It seems fitting for Hux to be reprimanded publicly, at the hands of his own subordinates. But when one officer takes it too far, it triggers an unexpected reaction from the Supreme Leader.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 8
Kudos: 127
Collections: Kylux Stuck Inside Week 2020





	indelible

**Author's Note:**

> My first contribution for Kylux "Stuck Inside" Week! This drabble was written for the prompt "Pain and Punishment."
> 
> This ended far more softly than how I thought it would, but still, please heed the tags.

This was supposed to feel like a victory.

Kylo Ren sat enthroned at the very top of a large amphitheater, a room aboard the _Steadfast_ often used for lectures and presentations to a large crowd of officers. Today, the seats were filled as they would be normally, but atop the dais in the center sat a very different subject, about as far as a senior officer droning on about proper uniform cleanliness as one could imagine.

A durasteel stockade had been set up on the dais in lieu of the usual lectern, a harsh and unrefined thing usually used for torturing prisoners when other options proved unhelpful. No one but Resistance scum and other members of the galaxy’s detritus often found themselves locked by the neck and wrists in its unforgiving grasp, but today it houses an unexpected new victim—General Hux.

Stripped of his uniform, with nothing left to hide him but the simple black socks sliding against the floor beneath him, Hux is bent forward at the waist, his naked lower body protruding from the side of the stockade facing Kylo and the crowd.

Kylo rested his cheek on one curled fist, his other hand digging into the black quartz of his new throne. The sight of the general bowed and bare with his pale buttocks exposed, forced into a facsimile of submission, would usually net Kylo’s curious arousal as he watched, but he firmly pushed that down every time it rose and needled at him, begging for attention he would not give. No. Not today. Today, this is punishment.

For General Hux is a traitor to the Order, to its cause, to Kylo Ren. A sniveling turncoat, rejecting everything he had once fought for in order to save his own hide. Just staring at Hux in the stockade brought about a tight pain in Kylo’s heart he told himself was merely a consequence of his rage finally being vindicated. That was all it was, all that still existed between them—hatred.

Hux had always been a thorn in his side, a frustrating presence that always lingered in his mind long after he dismissed Hux from his presence, convincing Kylo to do strange and stupid things, to bow to irrational emotions and desires. And now the haughty and proud general would finally face his punishment; but not at Kylo’s hands, no. At the hands of his own men. They would be the ones to strip Hux of the last layers of his dignity, those invisible protections that kept him untouched by greedy hands. With professional etiquette left at the amphitheater doors, Kylo had given them free rein to do whatever they wished to their fallen general, assured that whatever happened would fill him with vindicated glee.

It was meant to feel like a victory, and at first it had, as Kylo watched the audience steadily grow bolder in what it did to Hux. What started as mere observation, awed confirming that the general was _really_ locked up and naked before them, that this wasn’t some form of trap, quickly evolved into something more. They jeered at him, insulted him, slapped his thighs, pinched his hips; one even wrote something in bright red across the top of his ass. All acceptable, all things Kylo told himself he enjoyed. Hux deserved the suffering, the humiliation, for what he’d done.

But then, one officer decided to take things too far.

Perhaps Kylo should’ve anticipated this, with the public vulnerability of the general and the hidden proclivities he _knew_ existed within the minds of his subordinates. But he detected the shift from visualization to actuality a second too late, his eyes widening under his helmet as the officer took two fingers and shoved them, dry, into Hux’s hole.

Kylo surged to his feet as Hux’s pained keen echoed around the amphitheater, the silence otherwise bone dry as the audience witnessed their Supreme Leader move for the first time since the ordeal had begun. The split in Kylo’s heart throbbed like an open wound unexpectedly agitated, like a scab freshly broken. The guilty officer quickly withdrew his fingers, sensing the air in the amphitheater grow icy and dangerous, freezing like prey in the sights of a blaster as Kylo stormed down from his makeshift throne above him, hand outstretched.

Kylo thought in nothing but a surge of raw, possessive anger as he threw out his hand and sent the officer flying away from Hux, to land somewhere amidst the now panicked crowd. Their frantic unease, usually something pleasant, crawled upon his skin like sandpaper, and as he reached the dais upon which Hux stood on sagging, abused legs, he couldn’t stop himself from losing any self-control as Supreme Leader he still had.

“Leave. All of you!” he boomed, voice nightmarish through his vocoder. The Force simmered and hissed around him, tendrils of fury chasing the remaining officers from the amphitheater. With a twist of his fingers, Kylo shut all doors to the room, keeping them sealed and inaccessible.

For a moment, all Kylo did was stare at the empty amphitheater, breathing heavy and wet on the inside of his helmet. It sunk in, slowly, as he looked around at all the rows of seats, the black throne he had vacated, that he didn’t know when he had last been properly alone with Hux. Such memories had retreated into the darker corners of his mind, locked away with all the other thoughts that might shake his resolve.

The fury with which he had cleared the room ebbed as he began to turn around. The whisper of the hem of his cloak against the durasteel dais felt loud but not as loud as the whimper he heard rasping from Hux. He had remained silent all this time and yet his throat sounded scratchy and sore, as if tired from a hundred screams of rage and humiliation that had gone unspoken and stifled.

When Kylo finally mustered the courage to turn all the way around he saw, for the first time, the full extent of humiliation writ all over Hux’s lower half. Nasty, spiteful fingers had left a pattern of miniature bruises littering Hux’s legs and hips alongside broader, harsher handprints. Kylo remembered, some officers had spanked him like a naughty child, roughness increasingly as if they’d bet one another on who could make Hux break his silence and scream. The cruel inhumanity they kept buttoned down for the sake of military uniformity, out of fear of reprisal, completely unleashed upon the man responsible for their restraint.

That was all bad enough, but it didn’t stop with bruises. Scratches down Hux’s thigh had left feathering red marks, and a round circle of red had been burned into the back of his knee, evidence of an ashed cigarra yet Kylo had no memory of that happening. He wondered whether he had wiped it from his mind, not noticed, or not cared, all of Hux’s torment fading into background noise as he watched from the indifferent seclusion of his throne.

Above all the marks crested the scrawled, messy red word of “TRAITOR” across Hux’s lower back. It looked like it had been branded, though Kylo knew it to only be one of the regulation pens officers kept for personal notes. He remembered the exact shade of red, having seen Hux use it himself several times over the years on skin and flimsi alike. Now its reprobation had been turned against him, to shame him and soak his deed into the flesh where he was most vulnerable.

Kylo took in all of the profanation, finding more with each second he studied Hux’s body. Under the mask, he winced, and bit his lower lip, pain in his heart growing. From afar, it hadn’t looked so terrible, but now, confronted with it, he felt the rage surge back. But not at Hux, not at his betrayal, but at the officers. At _himself_ , for allowing it.

It should never have escalated. It should never had _started._ Kylo thought he wanted this, but he didn’t. He didn’t want anyone else to _ever_ touch Hux.

Momentarily at a loss for words, Kylo strode towards the stockade, unconscious of the way he kept his footsteps light upon the durasteel floor. Yet even the quiet impacts sent a twitch of fear through Hux’s body, and Kylo considered it a minor blessing he could not see Hux’s face for the stockade, as that might’ve broken him before he could even touch Hux.

“…Why did you send them all away?” Hux’s voice was small, tremulous but with underlying venom. “I thought…that was what you wanted. To punish the _traitor_.“

It took a moment for Kylo to summon his words. “You deserve punishment, Hux. But…not that.” He removed his helmet, hating the sounds of his modulated voice. “Not…like that.”

“Ah.” Hux was quiet for a moment. “And why not ‘that’? Why stop there?” He let out a humorless laugh. “I can’t imagine you’ve grown a conscience in the past couple minutes…”

Kylo finally dared to reach out and touch Hux, and though he thought he might relish in the shudder he felt from the general when he pressed his palm into his hips, it stuck into him like a knife through his heart. Hux’s fear should feel like a victory, but really it never had—all it had ever felt like was a glass sculpture in his hand that he kept snapping and cracking no matter how careful he tried to be.

The helmet fell from his other hand, and if it smashed and broke apart again upon the floor, this time irreparably, Kylo didn’t see it. He didn’t care, the freed palm moving to cup Hux’s bruised rear.

“I’m the only one who should touch you like this,” Kylo whispered, his gloved thumbs roving towards Hux’s asscheeks, spreading apart. He could sense the echo of pain from Hux as he did so, the memory of the other officer’s intrusion still fresh in both of their minds. “It should be only me. No one else can have you.”

“…Not even the Resistance?”

Quiet fell. Kylo inhaled shallowly, one hand lifting from Hux’s hips to palm the bulge steadily growing in his pants.

“No.”

Enough frivolous cruelty had been inflicted on Hux today, so Kylo leaves his hole untouched apart from the constant presence of his finger which he leaves pressed atop the delicate pink furl, almost guarding it. With his cock between Hux’s bare legs and his other hand ensconced around Hux’s cock, Kylo rocks into him. The stockade almost shakes with each thrust, each animal groan that pulls out of Kylo’s chest like shards of bloody glass. Hux rocks back, as much as he can in the stocks, each whimper and gasp answering Kylo’s, in accord they haven’t reached in months. Since before Batuu, before everything went to hell. Before Kylo allowed this travesty to happen. It was supposed to have made him feel more powerful than Hux, but in truth he had never felt weaker than when he had watched the other officer so carelessly breach what was his.

“Never again,” he murmured as he pulled away and painted come down Hux’s thighs, the inked “TRAITOR” smeared under his fingers. Holding Hux’s ass firmly to his body, in the best estimation of an embrace they can muster right now, Kylo lifts the ink off of Hux’s flesh with the Force, dissipating it into the air like blood washed away by water. Nothing but bare skin remains in its wake, pale and pristine, to be marked by nobody but Kylo from here on out.

That was his newfound promise.

“Never again,” he repeated when he released Hux from the stockade, cradling his naked and dirtied body in the comfort of his own cloak. Something sealed over in Kylo’s heart, no doubt leaving a thick, fleshy scar that would never truly heal but for now, it at least aches less, especially when Hux rests his head on Kylo’s chest and lets out a soft, unexpectedly content sigh. Kylo knew Hux would not accept forgiveness, not even in such a relaxed moment, so he did not try it, instead adjusting his hold on Hux to cradle him closer.

There was no way around the arduous path to come, once he walked out of that amphitheater. Piecing this back together would not be easy, not when their relationship had been shattered so violently, in such a public fashion. But Kylo knew, deep down, something he had tried to deny for so long. He and Hux were stronger together than they ever were apart, two oft frangible cords that intertwined to make an unbreakable cable.

Kylo would never risk letting it unravel again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked! I love comments, let me know how this made you feel! 
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


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